


Long-Distance Lullaby

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Squad Goals [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, M/M, Skype
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8175704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: Because sometimes we all must resort to frankly sub-par video-calling services with infuriating ringtones.





	

_God,_ Mallory thinks, _will the Skype call tone ever not be infuriating?_

He hits enter and, blissfully, it ends, to be replaced by Q looking distinctly less blissful. “I bloody hate Skype.”

Mallory shrugs. “Sorry. Is Bond there?”

The agent appears at Q’s shoulder, shirt undone. “Sir,” he says, making a half-hearted attempt to hide his chest.

“Report.” Q taps a few keys and the video quality becomes suspiciously improved. “And stop re-coding Skype.”

“But-!”

Mallory cuts him off. “We're using Skype for a reason. Any improvement would arouse suspicion. Everyone knows Skype is awful, you can't just change it.”

Q pouts manfully and Bond laughs. “Sir, your assets are looking good, though the stock market has taken a hit.” _Agents and contacts still loyal despite a general lack of confidence at present. Bloody Brexit._ “The other businessmen are looking to expand in the current climate and, as a rule, not towards the US.” _War is a concerning possibility and the concern is with America._

Mallory rubs his eyes. “I wish we could rig their election - for the sake of the market, you know.” Bond's proverbial ears pricked up. “ _Which obviously we can't._ ” Now Q laughs.

“I've been having a look at the records and everyone is pretending to be spotless. I'll let you know if I make any progress.” Q’s mission is standard intel and material gathering on Mallory’s contemporaries while Bond checks up on their “people”. They're posing as the IT guy and representative of Mallory, a high class businessman, which is why Q is forced to lower himself to Skype. Everyone is listening at business summits. The whole thing doubles as leave for the pair; James is doing his best to get Q relaxing on the beach with him, but even the south of France has proven a little too much for his translucent skin. Q sports red and peeling skin across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones over a perpetually unimpressed expression.

There's a knock at Mallory’s door and Tanner’s head appears around it. “Sir, I - oh, sorry, I can-”

“Evening, Bill,” James says tinnily.

Mallory waves him over and Tanner drops the file he was holding onto the desk. “Evening, chaps. Having a nice time? Soaking up the sun?”

Q glares at his blandly smiling face while James and Gareth grin. “Why are you still at work, Bill? Surely you have better things to do.”

“Than tease you, you mean? Certainly. I'm going to get Miss Moneypenny so that she can join in.”

Eve, when she appears over one of Mallory’s shoulders, looks immaculate, despite the hour. “Hello boys. I assume someone's already made some kind of tomato joke?”

“Sort of, but by all means, don't hold back,” Gareth says. Eve giggles.

“I wanted to thank you, Bill, for recommending that we visit that church in Vence, but I'm not sure I do any more,” Q says sulkily.

Bill grins. James presses a kiss to Q’s head with a smile. “Not really dark and forbidding enough for my tastes, but I suppose it’d do.”

Eve’s eyes narrow. “Do for what, now?”

“Don't fret, ma cher,” James laughs, “you'd be the first to know if you needed to get dolled up. Besides, we can't get past the question of which of us exactly would get the _bride_ smaid.”

Eve leans back, satisfied, but Bill and Gareth exchange mock-offended looks. “Why aren't we the first to be told?” Gareth says, folding his arms, half-heartedly fighting a smile.

“You wouldn't murder us for being second,” Q smiles.

Eve nods happily, and with no small amount of pride, and Bill holds his hands up in concession. “We're missing you at poker night.”

“Well, we aren't resorting to online games,” Q sniffs.

“Wouldn't dare,” Gareth says. “Plans for the evening?”

“Walks on the beach,” James says, as Q says “Work.” They stare at each other for a moment, communicating silently using just glances and subtle movements before turning back to the screen where their friends grin back at them. “Still deciding,” James amends. “Anything good your end?”

Gareth sighs, picking up the folder Tanner had brought. “This, apparently,” he says, waggling it in front of the webcam.

Bill checks his watch. “Not tonight, it isn't urgent. We'll knock off in a bit, get a pint.”

Gareth concedes readily and Eve smiles. “More of the same tomorrow, I'm afraid, since we've put off film night until you two buzzkills get back.”

James’ and Q’s faces light up briefly. “Shame, I was banking on not having to give up any of my prosecco,” James says, fighting his smile down.

Eve waves a hand nonchalantly. “Just bring a local wine from this suspiciously holiday-like business trip.”

Bill turns to her, shocked, then back to James and Q. “ _Absolutely_ bring prosecco.”

“It’s a serious trip!” Gareth protests.

Bill hums. “No, I'm with Eve on that one. The last M gave me two days off in Greenland. I went for a walk and nearly got eaten by a polar bear.”

There is a pause. “Really?” Q says incredulously.

Eve nods, laughing. “He whinged about it in the mission report.”

Bill shrugs. Gareth accidentally makes eye contact with James before the pair burst into uncontrollable laughter. “I could have _died,_ ” Bill complains, grinning.

“It certainly sounds like her,” Q says, squeezing James’ hand and smiling up at him softly. James presses his face into Q’s soft hair, inhaling its distinctive citrus scent. Their entire shared flat now smells of the man’s shampoo and, starting at some point, so does James’ concept of home.

“Alright, boys, time to say night-night.” Eve blows two kisses at the webcam which James pretends to catch and plaster onto his cheeks.

Q pouts. “I didn't get one!” James swoops in and makes up for it surprisingly tenderly.

“Gross,” Tanner laughs.

Q pushes the laughing agent away. “Night, Bill, Gareth.”

“Have a nice holiday.”

“Watch out for polar bears,” Gareth says, very seriously, and gets a swat on the arm for his troubles.

“Pick a good film,” James says, and the screen goes dark.

* * *

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘ _I can't come in today_ ’?” M says, ever so slowly, ever so murderously.

Bill winces almost audibly. “It's the problem with a secret organisation, sir. Traffic wardens don't, as a rule, recognise our badges. When they do, they think it's a joke. Sir,” he adds.

Mallory’s sigh crackles down the line, escorted by a comet’s tail of static. “But the reason you need to be in is -”

“-is the reason they won't let me enter the immediate area around MI6, yes.” High profile guests tended to elicit such a response from security, but over-zealous traffic wardens who had just been given orders from MI6 itself cannot be bargained with, persuaded or bribed. The security services really ought to employ some.

M is silent for quite a while. “Go home. Pick somewhere with a professional background and good internet and get bloody Skype up.”

“Sir.” Bill hangs up and Gareth puts his phone in its cradle slightly more enthusiastically than usual. Eve pushes down a wince as a little more of the already-battered plastic cracks.

“Moneypenny, with me.” He pushes open his door and stalks down to Q-branch. “007, what a surprise.” His voice is even sharper than usual and the minions cringe away appropriately.

“Sir.” Bond snaps to attention.

“I need you to escort our guests to the War Room. Ensure that they are comfortable and feel safe.”

James makes a face. “Babysitting.”

“ _That was an order, 007,_ ” Mallory, very much in M-mode, thunders.

Bond goes blank, the agent mask shuttering over his rage. “Sir.” He pivots sharply on his heel and fairly marches out of the branch. The minions cower a little lower in their seats.

“Q, make, secure and enhance a connection with Tanner’s Skype, for which you will be personally responsible. Should he be cut off at any point for any reason, bits of you will be cut off. Understand?” M’s face is as soft and friendly as a well-aimed brick travelling at a hundred miles an hour as it reaches three inches from the nose. It gave off similar feelings of regret for allowing oneself to get into this position. “To my phone and then the computer in the War Room, _if_ you can manage it.”

“Sir,” Q snaps and turns to his computer. He shoots a wounded look at Eve, standing behind M and hugging files to her chest for protection. She winces in commiseration. She can do no more.

As they march towards the War Room, Eve pulls level with Mallory and holds something out to him. “You're not yourself when you're hungry,” she says, solemnly.

He glances down at the brown-wrapped chocolate and then at her. He continues marching forth. “Haha,” Gareth says dryly, the very slight crease at the corner of his eyes the only hint of his amusement and only visible to the select few who knew where and when to look for it.

Eve grins, then sobers. “Seriously, your blood sugar is low and you're getting ratty and impulsive.”

“Savage,” Bill says, indistinct and muffled. Gareth pulls his phone out of his pocket in surprise and, on-screen, Bill cheers at the change in view. “There you are; I think Q patched it through without the need to accept on your end. He's sent me the necessary files and a lot of angry texts. Seven in a row, and you know how he hates double-texters.” Gareth rolls his eyes, passes the phone to Eve and begins to eat the chocolate bar obediently. Bill's phone bleeps. “Oh, eight. No; I tell a lie, this one's from James.”

Mallory sighs. “I've cocked this up, haven't I. It's just a bloody important meeting, and-”

“You didn't eat breakfast?” James interjects smoothly. They spin to face him and Bill shuts his eyes against the sudden motion sickness.

“No.” Gareth smiles humourlessly.

“They await your presence, my Lord.” James bows low, with a mischievous smile.

“Thanks,” Gareth says, seriously. James nods in acceptance. He looks up at the nearest security camera. “Thank you, too.” The camera dips in Q’s best mechanical approximation of James’ movement.

“Right, then,” Eve says. “Shall we? Since 007 has done such a good job of _babysitting_ our esteemed guests.”

Bill winces. “Ouch. You really fuc-”

“Shut up, or I'll disconnect you,” Gareth says, shooting a glare at the device.

“I'm really not sure you can, sir; the minions are very protective of their overlord and you did threaten to cut him up and feed him to his cats,” Eve points out.

Mallory holds up one finger. “Hang on, I never said anything about the cats.”

James shrugs. “Why not? It makes a better threat and has real Corleone-style poetic justice.”

“I'm allergic,” Gareth says sadly. Eve and James hum in commiseration.

“I left you alone for a matter of _hours_.” Bill says, tinny and incredulous. “ _Hours_.”

* * *

“Come on, come on, how has this even happened to us, come on…” The wheel of dots spins interminably. Bill stabs the screen irritably with a stiff finger and has the device taken away from him by an insulted-looking Q. “If he starts crooning at it, I'm walking.”

“I'm not going to sing to it,” Q sniffs, “it's a Nokia.”

“Still working though,” Bill points out triumphantly and snuggles further into James’ side. “Where are your iPhones? Your Samsungs?”

“Someone threw them in a river,” Gareth says flatly. “Yours was the only one deemed useless enough to survive.”

“Damn right,” Bill mutters, and James huffs a laugh, warm breath ghosting into clouds into the below-freezing air. “Mine still has battery though, yours all died hours ago.”

“Only because your phone can't do anything,” James says, pulling Mallory closer into the huddle. Bill nods, grinning happily.

“Yes! Eve!” Q says, suddenly animated despite the cold.

“Eve!” James says, leaning into the range of the Nokia’s front camera. Gareth beams at her genuinely, wrapped around the other side of Q.

“Eve?” Bill says curiously.

“Gareth, if you say ‘Eve’ I swear I will disconnect you,” She says, laughing, before quickly sobering. “Oh my God, boys, are you okay?” Eve’s voice sounds very far away. “I can barely hear you.”

Gareth offers her a faintly-purple thumbs up. “Bit cold.”

“Q-branch should have your location soon and then we'll be right with you.”

“How did we get here, Eve?” Bill moans from somewhere inside Bond’s coat. That Bond was still in the coat did not seem to faze him.

“Bill really likes the cold,” James says, mocking but fond, in response to Eve’s questioning expression.

“I don't know, darling,” Eve says, smiling slightly and pushing her hair back from her face. Even though the pixels are few and the connection is bad, she is clearly both tired and delighted to see them. “You only went out to one meeting. Now you're freezing to death in a cave somewhere. It's like some crazy ad-libs game.”

Gareth shuffles as close to James as he can, despite the small matter of Q being in the way. The agent is like a radiator in the small space. “I think it's connected to our guests last week. What with the elections heating up, talking to any American politicians is picking a side, and therefore political-slash-literal suicide.”

Eve pulls a face. “Nice. Bill, still with us?”

There is a groan. “Best you're going to get, I think,” James grins. “ETA?”

“Preferably before my balls turn blue and fall off,” Q adds grumpily.

“Preferably,” James seconds, kissing the Quartermaster’s cheek with chapped lips.

Eve laughs. “Any moment now.”

“How's that for your balls?” Gareth says. “Because at this rate, they'll fall directly into my lap.”

Bill sniggers against James’ side as the other two bicker about frostbite. “Good thing you aren't really here, Eve, I haven't any gloves.”

Eve shudders. “You're right, that is good.”

At James’ questioning look, Gareth explains. “Bill likes to demonstrate how cold his hands are by pressing them against people’s necks.”

“He's a delight to work with,” Eve sighs as Bill cackles.

There is the sound of boots on stone cave floor and the rescue team hove into view. “Sir!” The leader of the team and head of security, Rust, snaps out an immaculate salute immediately.

“Oh, good.” M struggles to his feet. “My legs have seized up. Got any coats?”

The appropriate clothing is handed out and frozen limbs thrust into parkas and gloves. James pushes Q up and turns the phone so that Eve can see and hear in glorious detail as Rust pulls Tanner up by his bare, icy hands which fly directly to the other man’s neck. Rust shrieks at the temperature, and looks distinctly sheepish as the Chief of Staff and Head Secretary laugh in a decidedly evil, albeit in one case rather tinny, fashion.

* * *

“No, see, according to this schematic the wall is one-point-two feet wide, and according to _this_ one it's one-point-seven.”

“Could be an error, Bond; we need more concrete evidence than that to authorise any action.”

“But Tanner, our agents don't make mistakes. The schematic Agent Ronan got last week has to be right, so there _has_ to be something there.”

“We can't assume, Eve, Bill’s right. I'll double check with-”

Q is interrupted by the sudden, abrupt change on the screen they are crowded around and bleeping. Hesitantly, he accepts.

They are treated to a small, tanned forehead, large blue eyes and a glorious insight into a small boy’s nostrils. “Ooh!” he says, delighted.

There is a long pause. “Hi,” Eve eventually decides on. James blinks and gently pushes Q’s jaw shut.

“Hello! My name’s Max. My mums aren't in right now, but I can get my uncle,” the child lisps enthusiastically. He beams proudly, displaying approximately three and a half teeth. He is still way too close to the screen.

“You called us,” Bill says hesitantly.

Max shrugs. “Yeah, but I have to practise, so, if you call me, I'll get it right.” He appears to think about this for a second. “Who are you?”

The secret service leaders look at each other, stunned into silence. “Could you - could you get your uncle, Max?” James asks, making a concerted effort to make his face appear less forbidding than usual. To Q, it was distinctly unsettling, but the kid didn't seem to care.

“Sure!” Bill and Q lean back almost imperceptibly as a spray of spittle hits the camera. “But you have to tell me who it is so I can tell him.”

“What name did you click on?” Eve asks.

Max thinks. “Wasn't a name. Just a letter. Q.”

Q pouts. “It is a name.”

“Isn't.”

“Is too!”

“Just say Q,” Bill suggests pragmatically. The boy nods and vanishes from view.

“Who is this child, exactly?” James murmurs as they all continue to stare at the screen.

Q shrugs. “It's definitely from Mallory’s laptop.”

“I somehow suspect not child-kidnappers.” Eve shrugs. “Good thing your code name isn't S, really.”

Bill snorts, just as the the on-screen door opens. “No, I really didn't want you to call them.” Mallory sounds like he's suppressing amusement.

Max drags him over to the desk and gestures at the four on the laptop. “Should I have called someone else?”

“I didn't want you to call _anyone_ ,” Mallory says, drying his face. “I meant, practise on your own.”

Max considers this, then frowns. “Nah. Won't be the same. Make them tell me who they are!” Mallory gives the boy a look usually reserved for tardy reports and annoying politicians. “ _...please?_ ”

Gareth smiles and scoops the boy up. He settles into the chair with Max on his lap at a comfortable distance from the screen. Here, the resemblance is obvious; the jawline, eye shape and thin lips are the same, but in miniature. In contrast, Max is obviously darker and has dark eyes, with thick, soft curls in black, angelic ringlets about his face and chubby fingers pulling strands to his mouth to suck. One of Gareth’s elegant fingers loops around the small wrist and prevents the motion.

“That's James,” Gareth begins, pointing out faces on the screen. “Bill, Eve and Q.”

“Told you,” Q says smugly.

Max’s jaw drops. “That’s the coolest name ever!” Q preens. The boy turns to his uncle. “Can I have just a letter for my name? Please?”

“What letter?” James asks.

“M, perhaps? For Max?” Bill suggests as innocently as a man can when grinning evilly.

“Yeah!” Max grins. “Awesome!”

“No,” the actual M says, “You can't. What would your mothers say?”

The kid shrugs. “I dunno. It'd be fine. Prob’ly.”

“This is my nephew, Max, for whom I am caring for the afternoon.” Gareth leans back in his seat as Max waves enthusiastically.

“Hi, Max. Having fun with your uncle?” Bill asks innocuously.

He nods, curls bouncing wildly. “Yeah! I made pasta at lunch and did some painting-”

“-with the pasta,” Gareth interjects with a sigh, shutting his eyes. James and Eve hide grins, although not very well.

“-yeah, and later we're going to watch a film and eat turkey dinosaurs even though mama says we're not allowed and stay up late and -”

“Pardon?” Gareth says, eyes snapping open. “Mum says what?”

“Mum says they aren't scientific’ly accu’te. _Mama_ says we can't have any,” the boy corrects.

Gareth sighs. “Of course. That's why you wanted them. Do you even like them?”

Max nods vigorously. “Oh yeah. Well, I would if I had them. Prob’ly.”

Mallory shuts his eyes. “Sure. This is fine.”

“Your mum's right,” Q says. “They are very bad for you. Probably never even seen a turkey.”

“Obviously, they're dinosaurs,” Bill grins. “Even inaccurate diplodocuses predate turkeys.”

“They're stegos, surely,” Eve says, folding her arms.

“Nah, no pointy bits.”

“Fair enough.”

Gareth’s eyes open again and he looks down at something hiding out of camera shot. “Hello. Want to have a see?” He reaches down and lifts a little girl over her older brother. She more closely resembles Gareth; the piercing icy eyes analyse the screen carefully and she is much more reserved. Her hair is short and the same colour as her uncle’s and she stays close to his chest, thumb in mouth. “This is Lucia. Say hello.”

Her eyes narrow threateningly. James nods. “I'll take that.”

“What film are you going to watch?” Eve asks softly.

Max opens his mouth, but shuts it at a look from Gareth. “Princess an’a frog.” Lucia says around a thumb. “‘s my fav’rite.”

“Mine too,” Eve beams. Lucia offer her a small smile and Bill’s now-permanent smile turns distinctly soppy.

Gareth huffs a laugh. “Alright gang, go and put your toys away while I start dinner.”

“Okaybyeeeeee!” Max yells and tears off out of the study. Lucia waves shyly and thunders off after him.

“Study looks nice,” Q offers in the resulting silence.

Gareth looks back at the school pictures of the kids and wedding photos of the parents with a smile. It's extremely messy, Lego forming drifts in the corners and the odd tiny shoe somewhat incongruous to the dark wood paneling and heavy oak desk. “Nicer than I remember it. I was only here when I was in trouble.”

“You were never in trouble,” James says, incredulous.

“You have no idea,” Gareth laughs. “It's nice that the house is happy again.”

“Yeah,” Eve says. “We'd better leave you to it. All seems under control, and you have a lot of their childhood to catch up on.”

Gareth rubs the back of his neck with a tiny smile. “Cheers. For everything. I didn't say, properly, before, but thanks. They love this place.”

“Go and be a good uncle, Gareth. Just be yourself,” James says gently.

“A less scary version of yourself,” Q amends, and they laugh.

“Those dinos won't hurl themselves into their own personal meteor on their own,” Bill grins.

“ _I_ want turkey dinosaurs now,” James whines. “Can we come over?”

“ _No,_ ” Gareth says firmly, sobering immediately. “Get back to work.”

“Yes sir,” Eve laughs.

The camera just captures Gareth’s smile before the screen goes dark.

* * *

Bill’s breath forms clouds in the air in front of him, blending seamlessly with the fog covering all of Hyde Park. Anything over six feet from him may as well not be there, secluded and shrouded in mist.

Bounding from it comes Cat, tennis ball held securely but gently in her jaws. She drops it at his feet and pants, yet more vapour curling around his ankles. He looks down at her grin and smiles back. She licks his hand and he takes the hint, picking up and throwing the ball. It carves a tunnel of space through the fog and Cat charges off after it, barrelling through the wall of white.

His phone buzzes and he wrestles it from deep inside his winter coat. “Morning, Q.”

Q rubs sleep from the corner of his eye. “Ugh,” he says, with feeling.

Bill's laugh hangs pale in the air before dissipating.

“Get my memo?”

Tanner nods. “Yeah, can't wait for today's meeting.”

Now James laughs. “I bet,” he calls from somewhere off screen - to Q’s left, if the affectionate glance he shoots that way is anything to go by - and Bill can hear clanking and dripping which suggests that it's his turn to wash up.

Bill switches the camera so that Q can watch Cat appear and drop the ball. “James, look, it's your main girl,” Q says happily.

“I am obliged to state that Eve is my main girl if I value my life,” James says seriously, appearing on the small screen still shaking soap suds from his hands.

“Hang on,” Q says, and after a pause Eve and Mallory appear on the screen too.

“Morning, all,” Gareth says over coffee and toast with what looks suspiciously like an entire jar of nutella.

“Cat!” Eve says delightedly. Her hair is half-straightened and she hasn't got any make-up on yet.

“No, Eve,” James says gently with a grin. “That’s a dog. We've been over this.”

Eve rolls her eyes. “I hate you.”

Bill tickles Cat behind the ears and sends her out into the mist again. “Everyone have a nice weekend?”

James shrugs with perfect poker face. “Not bad.”

“Bought new straighteners.” Eve clicks them shut and open with a triumphant grin before setting them to her hair again.

“I thought you said that natural hair was the only way to go,” Mallory says, frowning.

“And that products were just a wild combination of capitalism and whitewashing,” Q adds.

“Or was that just because your last straighteners broke?” Bill finishes.

Eve screws her nose up adorably and snaps the straighteners menacingly at the camera. “Don't I look cute though.”

The boys consider this, then shrug in concession.

“Gareth, have you got enough sugar for breakfast?” James asks.

“Fight me,” he replies through a mouthful of chocolate.

This argument keeps them going until Bill stumbles across a bench in the park. He sits and puts in his headphones as an old lady comes to sit by him. Cat makes a huge fuss of how ignored and lonely she is and the lady in turn makes a huge fuss of the triumphant Labrador.

“You're both pretty, okay, calm down,” Eve laughs.

Q giggles as James sniffs. “I'm prettier though.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “And pettier.”

“Ooh!” Eve says. “Vicious.”

“Just because you _know_ you're prettiest, Eve,” Bill laughs.

Before she can respond though, the lady beside Bill leans over. “If only more young married people were like you, hm? So nice to see you keeping in touch and being so nice.” She beams and wanders away into the fog before Bill can respond.

James and Eve are almost hysterical with laughter. Q’s head is in his hands and his shoulders are shaking. Bill grins and Gareth just shakes his head. “When did we all get so married, though?”

James gets himself under control long enough to say “Well, I don't know about _all_ …”

“ _James Bond what did you just say?_ ” Eve says.

He grins and Q rolls his eyes. “Well…”

“Nope. This is happening in person. Everyone, my office, right now.”

“Eve,” Bill says gently, “half your hair is very different to the other half. Gareth isn't out of his pyjamas yet.”

Eve looks in the mirror like it’s the first time as Gareth tugs at the collar of his band shirt self-consciously. “Oh, yeah. My office, like, half an hour. Happy?”

Q looks at James softly. “Ecstatic.”

“Gross,” Bill laughs. Laughing, they all disconnect.

Bill stuffs his phone back inside his coat and rubs Cat’s ears. He's learnt to love Skype, but some things are much better done face to face. He stands, stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks away into the mist, his dog trotting faithfully at his heels.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @doctors-star to chat/complain/prompt/make requests/complain/shout/complain.


End file.
